


Fear

by Adorable Anarchist (Vampbi)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety, Author Projects Their Issues Onto Their Faves, Body Horror, Everyone is fine, Gore, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Is This Coping?, Jack Has Issues, Jack has OCD, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, OCD, SHOULD'VE ADDED THOSE SOONER MY B, mental illness written by a mentally ill author, no actual self-harm tho, the warning is because of the nightmare, well Jack isn't FINE but you know, whoops need new tags for chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampbi/pseuds/Adorable%20Anarchist
Summary: Jack has a nightmare which is made worse by his OCD.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm literally just projecting some of my OCD feelings. This is first time I've voiced the contents of one of my nightmares, even if it is just by proxy. Progress! I may continue to write Jack dealing with OCD, actually. Y'all want to hear about the time I washed the skin off my hands but it's Jack?
> 
> Anyway, I am working on the next chapter of I Have Heard The Future. I just had a real bad episode the other day and needed to find a way to process it.
> 
> All of Jack's obsessions and compulsions are one's I have or had at one point.

Jack Zimmerman was afraid. This wasn’t anything new, he’d been afraid for as long as he can remember. Honestly, you’d think it’d just be background noise at this point but no, it was still controlling most aspects of his life. Jack had made a lot of progress since he’d figured out just what was wrong with him and started therapy for it but progress was slow. So. Frustratingly. Slow.

Jack got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom to wash up before making himself breakfast. He was actively not counting as he brushed his teeth. A specific number would not save him from flesh-eating bacteria and failing to hit that number would not cause it. He repeated that to himself, pointedly not counting the repetitions.

While making his protein smoothie and toast his phone lit up and he almost surprised himself with how fast he grabbed it. Disappointingly, it was not a text from Bitty. That should’ve been unsurprising, Bitty was almost never up this early. Didn’t really stop Jack from jumping to grab his phone every time it buzzed just in case, though.

Jack quickly finished and cleaned up breakfast and started on his morning run. He did not look at his feet. It did not matter if he stepped on a crack. Telling himself that didn’t stop the tug at the back of his mind.

At one point he passed a mother walking with her baby in a stroller and he was overcome with the fear that he was going to grab that stroller and push it into the path of an oncoming car. Jack sped up, as if to outrun the thought. Once they were out of sight the fear passed.

The remainder of the run was uneventful and once he arrived back home he had a quick shower before starting on the rest of his day.

At 7 Jack’s phone buzzed with a good morning text from Bitty which he quickly returned.

The day passed pretty normally. Jack didn’t even have a major anxiety attack which is why that night was such a surprise.

He fell asleep while texting Bitty so the fear that usually gripped him at night didn’t really have the chance to take hold but his sleeping brain apparently didn’t get the memo.

He was in the Haus again. It was empty which didn’t seem all that strange to his sleeping brain. Then he saw the blood. It was splattered across the wall. For some reason this wasn’t concerning. He turned his head and Lardo was on the ground. She was on the ground, somehow still breathing despite being cut open. Her ribs cracked open, her organs spilling out of her. Her face somehow free of the blood and gore that was endlessly spilling from her. Her lungs were moving, shrinking and inflating in time with Jack’s own breathing.

Lardo’s eye’s suddenly snapped to the side to stare directly at him at Jack realized that he’d done this. For some reason he felt nothing. His feet began to move forwards and he found himself outside Shitty’s room without having climbed the stairs. Jack lifted a hand to open the door vaguely noting the blood soaking his hand and forearm.

Shitty was there, pinned to the wall with oversized nails, skin stretched further than it should’ve been able. His head hung forward and a never ending flood of blood and wet clumps of flesh pore from his neck. As Jack watched the overstretched skin began to split, unable to hold together. It took only a second and Shitty’s torso burst open and his skeleton, muscles, veins, organs, everything inside him hit the floor in a heap leaving only skin pinned to the wall. Jack close the door and turned around.

He was in the attic. Ransom was there, clutching what Jack somehow knew was Holster’s heart to his chest and sobbing. It took a couple seconds for Ransom to notice him but when he did he was screaming in horror, fear and rage at Jack. Still, he felt nothing. A knife was now in his hand, or maybe it had been there the whole time? Before Jack could process this he had his knife buried in Ransom’s chest and he was carving and cutting his heart out to match Holster. Somehow it seemed fitting. Once he had the two hearts next to each other, Ransom’s body shoved to the side he smiled. Jack didn’t know why. He turned and walked right into the kitchen.

Bitty was there, baking like always. He seemed to be unaware of what Jack had done. When Bitty spotted him he simply smiled and begun gently teasing Jack, not seeing the blood covering him. Unaware of what Jack had done. Unaware of what Jack would do.

Jack walked forward, cupping Bitty’s face with one hand like he’d done a thousand times before. This time though instead of kissing his boyfriend his other hand found itself gripping a knife once more.

Jack woke with a start and found himself rushing to the bathroom to vomit.

He’d had nightmare’s like this every few nights for as long as he could remember and it never got easier. While rinsing his mouth he felt his sense of reality slipping away. In a haze he made breakfast and ate it. He didn’t register anything as he went on his run and showered. He was disconnected from it all.

At 7 his usual morning text from Bitty appeared and he reached for his phone on automatic only for fear to freeze him.

Jack didn’t know how or why but he knew that if he texted Bitty back something horrible would happen. It was the same way he as a preteen knew that if his hands made contact with anything he would get sick and die. It was the same way he as a child knew if he stepped on a crack his parents would die in a car crash. It was the same way he as a teenager knew if he caused himself enough physical pain it would cancel out whatever world ending disaster his latest minor social faux pas would’ve caused.

And he knew it was all nonsense but that didn’t stop the fear. Jack knew Bitty would worry if he didn’t hear from Jack but the fear of Bitty getting hurt overruled that. The nightmare kept flashing through his head and Jack knew he was a danger to everyone he loved.

The next thing Jack knew he was on the ground and he couldn’t remember how to breath. His head was so fuzzy, nothing felt real. Distantly Jack heard his phone buzz again, probably Bitty again. Would his teammates wonder what had happened if he didn’t show up from practice? Would they send someone to check on him?

That thought sent another wave of terror through him. He couldn’t be around anyone! He couldn’t let himself hurt anyone!

Slowly Jack remembered how to breath. It took what felt like forever but was probably not all that long for him to be able to sit up again. He was still disconnected from reality, unsure if this or the nightmare was real but managed to grab his phone.

Jack had another panic attack while finding Bitty’s contact and hitting call but he was more in control of this one.

Bitty picked up almost instantly, his voice somehow calming Jack and panicking him further.

With a shaky voice Jack explained what was happening.

The longer he and Bitty talked the calmer Jack felt. He knew he wasn’t going to feel grounded in reality for the rest of the day but he managed to call Bitty and nothing bad had happened and that was enough for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl this shit is therapeutic as hell for me.  
> Quick note: I gave Jack a cat named Puck because he needed a pet for this particular vent. My pet, a snake, is more fragile than a cat so idk how well that translates but oh well. Still felt good to write this out.
> 
> Also, thank you so much for the sweet comments <3 I have no idea how to adequately reply to them but they do mean the world to me

Sometimes thoughts would cycle, spinning around in his head drowning out everything else leaving him to live in a haze, all his energy spent on trying to rid himself of the thoughts without obeying the part of his brain that urged him towards whatever nonsense compulsion that would “fix” it. Often Jack thinks it would just be easier to give in but his stubbornness and refusal to become a slave to his routines once again. No, he was done with that.

Both Bitty and Shitty had suggested Jack find a therapist who specializes in OCD on more than one occasion but for some reason he just kept putting it off. There was no real reason to put it off….He just supposed he was afraid. Though, when wasn’t he?

Instantly after that thought Jack felt a pang of guilt, there were times when he forgot to be afraid. When everything calmed down and suddenly his horrifying thoughts slipped though his mind like sand, not catching and circling like the vultures they were. Those times of course only happened when he was around Bitty, Shitty, Lardo, Ransom and Holster. Not always, he was still terrified half to death most of the time even if his favourite people were around, but sometimes…..Sometimes he felt okay. Sometimes he knew no matter what his brain did he would never hurt these people and it was his own free will that determined that, not a stupid number, not an amount of self-inflicted pain, not anything other than his free will.

Today though? Today Jack’s brain was stuck on repeat.

‘I should hurt Puck, it would be so easy, I could crush his head, his ribs, his legs, his bones are so delicate, crush him, crush him, crush him, CRUSH HIM!!’ Over and over with the oh so fun undercurrent of ‘if I hurt myself instead I wont have to hurt Puck, hurt myself so I don’t hurt him, hurt myself so I don’t hurt him, hurt myself so I don’t hurt him, HURT MYSELF SO I DON’T HURT HIM!!’

All Jack could do was sit on his couch with his head in his hands, trying to shaking off the thoughts. He could feel himself hyperventilating but he no longer had the presence of mind to remember how to calm down. His head was feeling fuzzier and fuzzier and he knew he had to fucking calm down but he had no idea how. Somewhere through the static he heard Puck meowing. Normally he would help calm Jack down but now the thought of Puck being anywhere near him was terrifying. He couldn’t trust himself.

The logical part of his brain knew he’d never hurt Puck, but that didn’t seem to help right now. He repeated it to himself to try and reassure himself but somehow he fell into counting the repetitions and now he couldn’t stop.

3

4

5

Done. Once more and he’d have to go to 10. Jack was beginning to get angry at the seemingly endless cycle he couldn’t seem to break out of.

Something soft brushed his leg and Jack snapped his head out of his head to see Puck butting his head against Jack’s leg. Fighting back the panic rising in his throat Jack sat up a little straighter to allow Puck to hop into his lap. Puck very quickly settled down and started purring. Shaking with irrational fear Jack slowly started petting him.

Jack didn’t know how long it took but after what felt like an eternity he started breathing normally again and after spending so much time petting Puck the thoughts of harming either the cat or himself slowly started leaking away until Jack was left feeling exhausted, empty and preemptively terrified of the next time this happens. Hopefully he’d get a break at least until tomorrow but that might be asking to much. For now he was trapped in a floaty, almost dreamlike state and would stay that way for a while. It was numb and awful but it was better than the cycling static hell he’d just snapped out of.

Puck continued to purr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to keep this marked as complete but I may still add to it randomly.


End file.
